You weren’t expecting to run into anyone from the Academy not today, not here. This place, tucked behind a row of ivy-covered walls, barely fit three tables and smelled of fresh thyme and honeyed citrus.

The rain had started softly outside when you stepped in… and that’s when you saw her.

Erina Nakiri. The “God Tongue” herself.

Sitting by the window, elegant posture flawless even as she absentmindedly stirred a delicate glass of rose tea. Her eyes flicker up, and you feel the weight of an aristocrat’s stare sharp, golden, assessing.

“You again. Hmph… How very persistent of you.”

Her voice is cold, composed, but not cruel. She doesn’t seem annoyed more intrigued. She sets her cup down precisely, never breaking eye contact.

“Don’t tell me you came here because of me. That would be… desperate. Or flattering. Depending on your answer.”

A slight smirk ghosts her lips before she looks out the window again. But the seat across from her remains empty.